Monday, 12 December 2011

LET top Three Speech


LET  Top Three Speech

Novy C. Cuevas



                To our guest of honor and chairman of the Board for Professional Teachers, Hon. Faith M. Bachiller, our very own Regional Director of Professional Regulations Commission Region VI, Dr. Lily Ann Baldago, Hon. Jesus L. Nieves, Member, Board for Professional Teachers, guardians, benefactors, guests, my fellow professional teachers, ladies and gentlemen, a pleasant morning to all of us.
                Today is, indeed, a great day to all of us for I can see that everyone is wearing a happy face. I know that there are a thousand reasons to be happy, and I do believe that as we gather here today, we do share a common feeling of joy, joy because we are here to celebrate the fulfillment of our dreams – to be a part of the team of future builders. For four years or even more, we prepared ourselves for this time, the time that we could claim our dream – a professional teacher.
                Everywhere we go, I see the power of education to improve people’s lives. We have ample evidences to demonstrate that it is associated with wide range of indicators of well-being, including a nation’s increased productivity and competitiveness as well as social and political progress. Most important, education is a basic human right that frees the spirit from the chains of ignorance and poverty.
                That, I do believe, I came from a poor family where life is a constant struggle of making both ends meet. But then again, in life, we continually face challenges – and how we view them defines us – we choose to see the challenges as stepping stones or as obstacles. Though we lack material possessions, I consider myself fortunate to have God and a loving family who dared to dream big dreams for our bright future and take the risk brought by a higher education. I could still remember the time when my father, Mr. Erfe F. Cuevas, went house to house to borrow an amount for my tuition fees, just find the door shut on his face, and much worse he was bitten by a dog. It still lingers here in my ears the many nights mother just stifled her cries because we don’t have enough rice left in the “bakag” or “tabungos” to last a day, and still worries where she could lend my another week’s allowance. But still they persisted. That’s the story why even the small parcel of land my father inherited was sold.
                I could never forget how the tears fell on father’s face as he counted the amount of his beloved farm turned into small piece of paper called receipt. Those I could never ever forget. The times when my thoughts beckoned me astray, those moments inflamed my motivation not to give up and face the battle strongly. As the cliché says “ For every man’s success, there’s a woman behind it”, and for me, that wonderful superwoman of my life is my mother, Mrs. Nida C. Cuevas. Nay, Tay, you are my heroes. I love you very much. Words are not enough to describe how grateful I am to you, and to my only sibling, my big brother, Mr. Nerfe June C. Cuevas, who never stops supporting me, Bro, I owe you a lot.
                I know that each one of us has its own story and experience to tell making this moment a sweet victory and I know that you can relate with me, too.
                We know very well that passing the Licensure Examination for Teachers is very tough. It requires dedication, hard work, and lot of faith. For me, passing the Licensure Exam, much more, be among the topnotchers, required a great ordeal. Since we are not financially able, I was not able to attend any review classes in any review centers. What I did was, I borrowed elementary books and high school books, doubled my efforts in studying and really burnt my midnight candle – figuratively and literally.
                Now, I would like to take this opportunity to thank the people who helped me to be what I am today. To my two uncles, who still made me believe that family and kinship is of great importance, Mr. Apolinario F. Cuevas and Mr. Francisco F. Cuevas. They are the ones who always supported especially during our financial dilemmas. Pang Uling, Pang Iko, thank you so much. To Dr. Victor E. Navarra, University President, University of Antique, Dr. Laura G. Perales, former dean, College of Teacher Education, University of Antique, Dr. Leonisa B. Miras, Dean, College of Teacher Education, University of Antique, Dr. Elena M. Calumbiran, Vice-President, Academic Affairs, University of Antique, my gratitude for providing me and the UAnian a wholesome learning environment during our stay in the portals of the unfolding wings of our dear Alma Mater, to my friends who believe in me, to my relatives for the moral support, and even to my critics who doubted me, thank you, still for pushing me and keeping me highly motivated.
            And now, what is usually the secret to people’s success? Many would claim to have someone been very influential to him during his formative years. This time, alow me to pay tribute to my three Alma Maters:
            To Sinundolan Elementary School, San Remigio, Antique, and the teaching staff, thank you for nurturing and providing me a solid basic educational foundations. I salute you.
            To Gideon M. Cabigunda Memorial School, San Remigio, Antique, together with my mentors in this institution, my great appreciation for your selfless provision of quality secondary education in my life. You helped me see my life through. I congratulate you.
            To the University of Antique, Sibalom, Antique, together with my professors and instructors, its vision and mission, that is, to provide quality graduates for national progress and global competitiveness, you are indeed, worthy of your title: The University of Antique: The Antique’s Pride.
            To my institutions and all my mentors, you have left and will continue to leave an indelible legacy of excellence, achievement, and a fine ethos and traditions for generations to come. Your roles have been largely instrumental in molding the learners – the hope of our future.
            Most of all, to God Almighty, for His unfailing love and faithfulness in my life. I bring Him back all the glory and honor.
            Now, I try to achieve my dreams and I would help others to do the same, for I believe that a strong nation and a free nation can only be based itself upon education. These are the crucial times when nations rise against nations, tensions increase and disaster is possible any moment. Distances are shrinking. Peace and life itself is threatened by misunderstanding and conflict. Now is the time when man’s relationship to God must be the foundations for all his efforts towards enlightenment, and learning the basis for understanding, cooperation, and peace. It is now our task as teachers to make a change, a difference in the lives of the learners and the society as well, for according to Martin Luther King Jr., “Intelligence plus character – is the goal of true education”.
            Lastly, I would like you to ponder what Henry Brooks Adams said, “A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell when is his influence stops”. So I would say, we need to create a vision whereby our name and our profession as a teacher become synonymous with excellence, innovation, honor, integrity, and outstanding quality service.
            Thank you very much and congratulations to all of us.
            To God be the Glory!


   


Friday, 14 October 2011

-best-

THE MAN WITH THE HOE
by: Edwin Markham (1852-1940)
      OWED by the weight of centuries he leans
      Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
      The emptiness of ages in his face,
      And on his back the burden of the world.
      Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
      A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,
      Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
      Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?
      Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
      Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?
      Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave
      To have dominion over sea and land;
      To trace the stars and search the heavens for power.
      To feel the passion of Eternity?
      Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped the suns
      And marked their ways upon the ancient deep?
      Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf
      There is no shape more terrible than this--
      More tongued with censure of the world’s blind greed--
      More filled with signs and portents for the soul--
      More fraught with menace to the universe.
       
      What gulfs between him and the seraphim!
      Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him
      Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades?
      What the long reaches of the peaks of song,
      The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
      Through this dread shape the suffering ages look;
      Time’s tragedy is in that aching stoop;
      Through this dread shape humanity betrayed,
      Plundered, profaned and disinherited,
      Cries protest to the Judges of the World,
      A protest that is also prophecy.
       
      O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
      Is this the handiwork you give to God,
      This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched?
      How will you ever straighten up this shape;
      Touch it again with immortality;
      Give back the upward looking and the light;
      Rebuild in it the music and the dream;
      Make right the immemorial infamies,
      Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?
       
      O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
      How will the Future reckon with this Man?
      How answer his brute question in that hour
      When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world?
      How will it be with kingdoms and with kings--
      With those who shaped him to the thing he is--
      When this dumb Terror shall reply to God,
      After the silence of the centuries?

-ilovepoems-

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

-ilovepoems-

Work by Henry Van Dyke
Let me but do my work from day to day,
In field or forest, at the desk or loom,
In roaring market-place or tranquil room;
Let me but find it in my heart to say,
When vagrant wishes beckon me astray,
"This is my work; my blessing, not my doom;
"Of all who live, I am the one by whom
"This work can best be done in the right way."

Then shall I see it not too great, nor small,
To suit my spirit and to prove my powers;
Then shall I cheerful greet the labouring hours,
And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall
At eventide, to play and love and rest,
Because I know for me my work is best.

-ilovepoems-

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
            A PSALM OF LIFE
      WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN
                    SAID TO THE PSALMIST

    TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
        Life is but an empty dream ! —
    For the soul is dead that slumbers,
        And things are not what they seem.
    Life is real !   Life is earnest!
        And the grave is not its goal ;
    Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
        Was not spoken of the soul.
    Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
        Is our destined end or way ;
    But to act, that each to-morrow
        Find us farther than to-day.
    Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
        And our hearts, though stout and brave,
    Still, like muffled drums, are beating
        Funeral marches to the grave.
    In the world's broad field of battle,
        In the bivouac of Life,
    Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
        Be a hero in the strife !
    Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
        Let the dead Past bury its dead !
    Act,— act in the living Present !
        Heart within, and God o'erhead !
    Lives of great men all remind us
        We can make our lives sublime,
    And, departing, leave behind us
        Footprints on the sands of time ;
    Footprints, that perhaps another,
        Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
    A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
        Seeing, shall take heart again.
    Let us, then, be up and doing,
        With a heart for any fate ;
    Still achieving, still pursuing,
        Learn to labor and to wait.

-ilovepoems-

Man Belongs to Earth - Cheif Seattle

2:33 AM Edit This 0 Comments »
How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land?
The idea is strange to us.
If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water,
how can you buy them?
Every part of the Earth is sacred to my people.
Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every clear and humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of my people.
The sap which courses through the trees carries the memory and experience of my people.
The sap which courses through the trees carries the memories of the red man.
The white man's dead forget the country of their birth when they go to walk among the stars.
Our dead never forget this beautiful Earth, for it is the mother of the red man.
We are part of the Earth and it is part of us.
The perfumed flowers are our sisters, the deer, the horse, the great eagle, these are our brothers.
The rocky crests, the juices in the meadows, the body heat of the pony, and the man, all belong to the same family.
So, when the Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land, he asks much of us.
The Great White Chief sends word he will reserve us a place so that we can live comfortably to ourselves.
He will be our father and we will be his children.
So we will consider your offer to buy land.
But it will not be easy.
For this land is sacred to us.
This shining water that moves in streams and rivers is not just water but the blood of our ancestors.
If we sell you land, you must remember that it is sacred blood of our ancestors.
If we sell you land, you must remember that it is sacred, and you must teach your children that it is sacred and that each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the lakes tells of events in the life of my people.
The waters murmur is the voice of my father's father.
The rivers of our brothers they quench our thirst.
The rivers carry our canoes and feed our children.
If we sell you our land, you must remember to teach your children that the rivers are our brothers, and yours, and you must henceforth give the rivers the kindness that you would give my brother.
We know that the white man does not understand our ways.
One portion of land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs.
The Earth is not his brother, but his enemy and when he has conquered it, he moves on.
He leaves his father's graves behind, and he does not care.
He kidnaps the Earth from his children, and he does not care.
BIRTHRIGHT
His father's grave, and his children's birthright are forgotten.
He treats his mother, the Earth, and his brother, the same, as things to be bought, plundered, sold like sheep or bright beads.
His appetite will devour the Earth and leave behind only a desert.
I do not know.
Our ways are different from yours ways.
The sight of your cities pains the eyes of the red man.
But perhaps it is because the red man is a savage and does not understand.
There is no quiet place in the white man's cities.
No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring, or the rustle of an insect's wings.
But perhaps it is because I am a savage and do not understand.
The clatter only seems to insult the ears.
And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lonely cry of a whippoorwill or the arguments of the frogs around a pond at night.
I am a red man and do not understand.
The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of the pond, and the smell of the wind itself, cleansed by a midday rain, or scented with the pinon pine.
PRECIOUS
The air is precious to the red man, for all things share the same breath - the beast, the tree, the man, they all share the same breath.
The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes.
Like a man dying for many days, he is numb to the stench.
But if we sell you our land, you must remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.
The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh.
And if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where even the white man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow's flowers.
So we will consider your offer to buy our land.
If we decide to accept, I will make one condition - the white man must treat the beasts of this land as his brothers.
I am a savage and do not understand any other way.
I have seen a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairie, left by the white man who shot them from a passing train.
I am a savage and do not understand how the smoking iron horse can be made more important than the buffalo that we kill only to stay alive.
What is man without the beasts?
If all the beasts were gone, man would die from a great loneliness of the spirit.
For whatever happens to the beasts, soon happens to man.
All things are connected.
RESPECT
You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of our grandfathers.
So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the Earth is rich with the lives of our kin.
Teach your children what we have taught our children, that the Earth is our mother.
Whatever befalls the Earth befalls the sons of the Earth.
If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.
This we know - the Earth does not belong to man - man belongs to the Earth.
This we know.
All things are connected like the blood which unites one family.
All things are connected.
Whatever befalls the Earth - befalls the sons of the Earth.
Man did not weave the web of life - he is merely a strand in it.
Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.
Even the white man, whose God walks and talks with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny.
We may be brothers after all.
We shall see.
One thing we know, which the white man may one day discover - Our God is the same God.
You may think now that you own Him as you wish to own our land, but you cannot.
He is the God of man, and His compassion is equal for red man and the white.
The Earth is precious to Him, and to harm the Earth is to heap contempt on its creator.
The whites too shall pass, perhaps sooner than all other tribes.
But in your perishing you will shine brightly, fired by the strength of the God who brought you to this land and for some special purpose gave you dominion over this land and over the red man.
That destiny is a mystery to us, for we do not understand when the buffalo are slaughtered, the wild horses tamed, the secret corners of the forest heavy with scent of many men, and the view of the ripe hills blotted by talking wires.
Where is the thicket?
Gone.
Where is the Eagle?
Gone.
The end of living and the beginning of survival.

-juz 4 u-

-success is the continuing achievement of becoming the person God wants you to be and accomplishing the goals God has helped you set-